


Destiny's Path

by theangryuniverse



Series: The Senator and His Concubine [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greece & Rome, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Classics, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Romance, Romanesque, There is a baby, Victor and Yuuri are madly in love, and it is very cute, intersex omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:54:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryuniverse/pseuds/theangryuniverse
Summary: There have been many changes since the day Yuuri came into his life. Most of them are small, but the impact they have on his life are immense. It is in the little things, Victor realises, that he feels Yuuri’s love. It is the fact that he can sleep through the night at his side and is not haunted by nightmares. It is the kiss that Yuuri gives him in the morning, the touch of his hand on his cheek, the little smile that appears on his face when he gently persuades Victor to shave. It is the critical look that Yuuri gives him when he shares some of his work with him, the insights he offers him on the lives of normal people. He feels his love in the fact that Yuuri will take the documents out of his hands when he thinks that Victor has had enough for the day, tastes it in the food that Yuuri places on his tongue. He hears his love in his concubine’s laugh, in the cries that come over his lips when he has him, in the songs that he sings for him when the night is warm and fireflies come to visit.Yuuri is everything, the one who possesses his heart, who has the most power over Victor, and who could end him any day by leaving him.But despite everything, Yuuri stays.Despite the loneliness.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Series: The Senator and His Concubine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698856
Comments: 59
Kudos: 262





	Destiny's Path

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lorelai_walker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorelai_walker/gifts).



> I love them.

**Destiny’s Path**

* * *

Victor is fairly sure that this must be the height of decadence.

They have moved the bed across the room to the doors that open up to the balcony and now let in a gentle breeze. It cools their bodies wonderfully, caressing their skin almost like the gentle touch of a lover would. Victor’s lover is right there with him, resting entirely nude in his arms as he feeds him cherries. Yuuri’s lips part obediently as Victor holds the fruit to his mouth. He places it on his tongue, and it brushes Victor’s fingertips before Yuuri closes his mouth again and curls up against his chest with a sigh.

It is a simple thing to rest with one’s beloved, but to Victor, it means the world.

For one, he rarely has an afternoon off. Most days, the senate demands his attention from dawn until dusk and he rarely gets to see his concubine during the day. Yuuri never complains, of course, but Victor knows how lonely his beloved is in this house, with only Vicchan at his side to keep him company. The dog brightens Yuuri’s day, Victor knows that, but it does not change the fact that they do not get to spend as much time together as they want.

Victor therefore treasures every moment of peace he has with him.

Yuuri purrs happily in his embrace and looks up at him with shining eyes, eyes that speak of love and utter adoration. “When will I wake up, only to realise that all of this is just a dream?” He asks quietly, tracing an invisible pattern on Victor’s bare chest.

“Never,” Victor hums and kisses him, “for this is not a dream. I do love you. And you deserve only the best.”

“Charmer,” Yuuri whispers and returns the kiss gently.

“More cherries?”

“Yes, please.”

Victor reaches for the bowl and fishes out a ripe, round cherry that shimmers ruby red in the afternoon sun.

“Did you know that cherries are said to be made of the elixir of immortality?” He asks his beloved. “They are symbols for fertility, sexuality, beauty, and procreation. They have been made just for you, it seems.”

Yuuri chuckles and snatches the cherry from Victor’s hand, popping it into his mouth. “You always say such scandalous things. What if someone else hears you?”

Victor grins. “Then they will know how utterly bewitched I am. How completely enamoured. Not that I am keeping it a secret.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “You speak to others about me?”

“Only to Chris,” Victor assures him, knowing that Yuuri values his privacy. “You know that he likes you.”

Yuuri blushes, undoubtedly thinking back to the unexpected encounter he has had with Chris just a few weeks ago in Victor’s study. He had only been in search for Vicchan. Instead, he had run into Chris, who had been waiting for Victor.

From what Victor had heard about the encounter from Chris, he was sure that his beloved had been shy but utterly charming.

“He is very kind to think so of me,” Yuuri says softly. “Although he barely knows me.”

“Chris is very good at judging people,” Victor says. “He immediately saw your genuine kindness and your loving heart.”

His concubine blushes even more at that, the colour of his face slowly becoming the one of the cherries. Victor kisses him.

“If you could only see yourself through my eyes, my darling,” he whispers and runs his hand along Yuuri’s bare side down to his hips. “Then you would see your beauty, your kindness, and so many other things that no mortal being could ever put into words.”

Yuuri looks at him in awe, and Victor is sure he has overdone it again, but he has never been ashamed of what he feels for his concubine. He will never hold back. Especially not in front of Yuuri.

“So scandalous,” Yuuri murmurs, his cheeks adorably red, and he buries his face in Victor’s chest.

Victor chuckles and nuzzles his lover’s hair. He loves his dark curls, the way they fall down his back in a long, intricate braid. At the same time, he knows that Yuuri often looks at his hair critically, for a reason he cannot understand.

He sighs and gives Yuuri’s hip a gentle squeeze before he carefully rolls him onto his back again and cups his cheek. “How about we go to the thermal bath later?”

Yuuri chuckles. “Are you feeling our lovemaking in your bones, or is it old age?”

“Yuuuuri!” Victor cries out in playful outrage and Yuuri laughs.

The sound of it is like music.

Victor captures his lips with his own and Yuuri melts into his touch, moaning softly into his mouth as their hands become searching, wanting, demanding, neither of them sated yet and desperate to taste more, to feel more of the other. Victor wraps an arm around Yuuri’s waist to bring him closer, feeling his concubine’s fingers in his hair.

“Master?”

Victor sighs heavily and breaks the kiss, glancing over his shoulder at the curtain that separates them from the rest of the room.

“Yes?”

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Master,” he hears Cao Bin say in his usual, polite voice, as if he had not interrupted them in just a very particular moment. “The Mistress wishes to see you.”

Victor closes his eyes for a moment in annoyance. “Tell her that I will see her later,” he calls back and caresses Yuuri’s side, already making out the spots where he shall kiss him next.

“Forgive me, Master,” Cao Bin says, and Victor feels the urge to throw something, “but the Mistress says it is urgent. She also said she would come up herself if need be,” he adds, and Victor can imagine the servant’s face at the idea of Evgenia coming up here, where Yuuri is.

“Go and see what she wants,” Yuuri says softly and pecks his lips. “I’m sure it is important.”

Victor does not want to get up and leave Yuuri’s side, but he also knows not to test Evgenia. He knows that she would come up here to get him if she had to, and confronting Yuuri with the woman he is married to is something he would very much like to avoid.

“Tell her I will be downstairs in a moment,” Victor says to Cao Bin, who turns and walks out of the room to deliver the message.

With a sigh, Victor sits up and leaves the bed to pick up his robe from the floor. “It surely will not take long,” he assures Yuuri, who has risen into a sitting position on the bed and pulls a blanket over his bare legs. “Whatever it is that she wants.”

“I am sure it is nothing serious,” Yuuri says and throws his braid over his shoulder in slight annoyance of it. “I’ll wait here.”

Victor makes sure he looks somewhat decent before he turns around and bends down to kiss Yuuri on the lips. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he promises and then leaves him, regret sitting deep in his stomach as he walks out of the room and down the stairs to the hall. Leaving Yuuri’s side is not something he has planned to do this afternoon, on this rare day where he is free of his duties.

Evgenia is one of his duties.

Even if they have not shared the bed in months, so long that Victor cannot actually remember when he last went to her chamber, she is still his wife and he is responsible for her wellbeing. Most of the time, they do not cross each other’s paths, and Victor has learnt soon enough that he should let Evgenia do as she pleases. She has always entertained herself quite well with parties, banquets, theatre performances, musicians and the like, the wives of other senators and important people being her friends. Her understanding of life and amusement differs greatly from Victor’s, which is one of the reasons they never truly got along the way their parents had hoped. Over the years, they have learnt to live with each other.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The entrance hall is filled with servants carrying boxes out of the house as Victor arrives there, spotting Evgenia standing in the midst of it all, exchanging a few words with her ever-loyal servants that she brought with her into the marriage. At his sight, Evgenia sends them out and turns around to face him.

“Are you leaving?” Victor asks, watching as Cao Bin barely manages to catch a small chest that has fallen off a pile of blankets another servant carries in his arms.

“I have decided to spend a month at our summer retreat by the coast,” Evgenia says and wraps her shawl around her narrow shoulders. “My doctor recommends the fresh air for my health.”

“I see,” Victor nods, briefly studying her from head to toe. She has become thin, he realises. His wife has always been tall and slender, but now he can see her collarbones, and her face looks strangely pale, even for a woman with her complexion. “Is anything the matter? Are you well?”

“Certainly,” Evgenia replies as if it were nothing and readjusts her shawl. “There is no need for you to worry about me. I will be back in about a month. Until then, you may rejoice about the fact you have me out of the house.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Evgenia, you know very well that I would never—”

“Please be so kind and make sure the gardeners do not forget the roses that grow right under my balcony,” she says and nods at her servant girls that wait for her at the gate.

“Of course,” Victor says with a small sigh and steps forward to give her the obligatory kiss on the cheek. Changing her mind is usually a fruitless endeavour. She is proud, stubborn, even. If she believes he would rejoice about her absence, then there is little he can do to change her mind. “Do you have everything you need? Enough servants?”

“My girls will take care of my every need,” Evgenia says and withdraws from this brief, loveless exchange of pleasantries as if they were nothing but a transaction. “Do try to not start a war or riot while I am gone. You know how terribly it affects the roads.”

“Take care,” Victor says, defeated.

He watches as she walks out of the house and down the path to the gates where a carriage is waiting for her, one of the very best for comfortable travels. Her servant girls hold her hand as she climbs in, then follow her and shut the door, and the carriage drives away.

Although his wife is gone, the house does not feel any different, not as if something significant had left. It is rather sad, Victor thinks, and perhaps it would be different if they had ever formed an actual relationship with one another. But Evgenia understands little of him, and he little of her. Some people, Victor is sure, are simply not made for each other, and it is even more unfortunate when they are forced to spend a life together.

The only thing they can do about it is to make the best of it.

Yuuri has left the bed as Victor comes back, now sitting at the dressing table, dressed in a light gown as he plays with his braid, lost in his thoughts. Victor loves watching him in moments like these, when Yuuri frowns ever so slightly and bites down on his lower lip and his eyes become searching for something only his concubine knows. He does not react to Victor until he is right behind him and wraps his arms around him, and kisses him on the cheek.

“What did she want?” Yuuri asks, meeting his gaze through the mirror. “Is everything alright?”

“She is leaving to spend a month or so at the coast,” Victor replies. “And… I don’t know. I do not know if everything is alright.”

Yuuri frowns and turns around on the stool to face Victor properly. “What do you mean?”

Victor sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed, Yuuri immediately following him there. He takes his hand, cradles it as if it were the most precious thing in the world, his big, brown eyes full of worry.

“She is leaving because her doctor recommended it. She is rather pale, and skinny, too. She claims to be fine, but truth be told, I have my doubts. I do not like at all what I see.” Victor pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know that I am not the best of husbands, but if she is unwell, it is my duty to take care of her.”

Yuuri gently squeezes his hand. “From what you have told me about her, it seems like she is taking care of herself either way,” he says softly. “But the mere fact that you do worry about her wellbeing, despite your differences and disputes, honours you, Victor. You are a better husband than you think you are.” Yuuri brushes a strand of hair out of Victor’s face and kisses him on the cheek. “I am sure she will come back home refreshed and healthy. We can make a sacrifice for her to the gods if you would like that.”

It never fails to amaze Victor how easily Yuuri accepts people, how he never holds grudges against anyone, even if he had every right to do so. He remembers how worried Yuuri has been at first, about being in the admittedly rather peculiar position of the concubine, in the house where Victor’s wife lived. How concerned Yuuri has been about destroying a marriage, of which Victor has always assured him it only existed on paper. Yuuri has never spoken ill of her, and probably does not even think ill of her, even though she is a threat to him and could easily make his life hell on earth if she wanted to.

After all, she knows about Yuuri’s presence, and has made a handful of remarks about him in Victor’s presence.

But as far as Victor knows, she and Yuuri have never met face to face.

“You have the kindest of hearts,” Victor says and kisses Yuuri’s hand tenderly. “And yet, I am inclined to say that she does not deserve your empathy. Not like this.”

“Let my empathy be my concern,” Yuuri says. “Do you still want to go to the thermal bath downstairs? Or are you too tired?”

“No, let us go,” Victor says and rises from the bed, pulling Yuuri up with him. “After everything we did this afternoon, we should refresh ourselves a little, don’t you think?”

He holds Yuuri’s hand on the way downstairs, and does not let go of it when they get into the bath. The water is warm and soothing to their skin and muscles, the oils that have been added to it filling the room with a sweet, heavy scent. The heat also makes them tired, and neither of them speak a lot while they are in the bath. As they retreat to the chaise longue by the open window to cool down, Victor cannot help but admire the rosy colour of Yuuri’s skin, and the way his dark hair shines in the light of the setting sun. Yuuri is playing with it, playing with the braid he keeps his hair in, and again, there is the thoughtful frown on his face that Victor longs to kiss away. But he feels that it would be an unwelcome intrusion.

Yuuri runs his fingers through the wet strands like a comb, biting down on his lower lip.

“Would you hate it if I cut it off?”

Victor is surprised by the question, and by the way Yuuri asks it. Quiet, soft-spoken, almost hesitant.

“I could never hate anything that you do,” Victor replies, moving a little closer to him on the chaise longue. “But may I ask why you want to cut it off? Your hair is very beautiful.”

“I know,” Yuuri says. “But it is the way my old master wanted me to wear it.”

“I see.” Victor understands immediately. “If you would like to cut it off, let me call for Cao Bin. He always cuts my hair.”

Yuuri nods, taking a deep breath, as if only then deciding to go through with it. “I want to cut it off. I am certain.”

“Then let me call for Cao Bin.”

Hand in hand, they return to Yuuri’s chambers, where Yuuri sits down at the dressing table with firm determination. For the first time, Victor notices the way Yuuri does actually look at his hair. He has seen how Evgenia treats hers – as part of her beauty, part of her pride. What things Yuuri must see and think whenever he looks at his own hair Victor can only imagine.

Cao Bin brings various small knives and scissors with him as he comes, the expression on his face slightly confused as he stands behind Yuuri and takes his hair in hand. “How short?”

Yuuri meets his gaze in the mirror. “Short.”

Victor nods as Cao Bin shoots him a hesitant look, and decides to wait outside on the balcony. From there, he has an excellent view of the smaller of the two gardens that his estate has, this one called “The Lovers’ Garden” by his servants, because he and Yuuri often go for little walks there, enjoying the afternoon sun. There are flowers with blue petals that both of them love and care for, climbing up the wall right beside the balcony. Victor plucks off a petal, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger. It is soft, like Yuuri’s skin when he caresses his body.

There have been many changes since the day Yuuri came into his life. Most of them are small, but the impact they have on his life are immense. It is in the little things, Victor realises, that he feels Yuuri’s love. It is the fact that he can sleep through the night at his side and is not haunted by nightmares. It is the kiss that Yuuri gives him in the morning, the touch of his hand on his cheek, the little smile that appears on his face when he gently persuades Victor to shave. It is the critical look that Yuuri gives him when he shares some of his work with him, the insights he offers him on the lives of normal people. He feels his love in the fact that Yuuri will take the documents out of his hands when he thinks that Victor has had enough for the day, tastes it in the food that Yuuri places on his tongue. He hears his love in his concubine’s laugh, in the cries that come over his lips when he has him, in the songs that he sings for him when the night is warm and fireflies come to visit.

Yuuri is everything, the one who possesses his heart, who has the most power over Victor, and who could end him any day by leaving him.

But despite everything, Yuuri stays.

Despite the loneliness.

Victor looks up and lets go of the petal.

Just then, he hears Yuuri gasp, and he feels the urge to go to him, but he holds himself back and puts his hands on the barrister instead as he waits.

It seems to take hours.

Finally, he hears the sound of bare feet on the marble floor, and Yuuri’s hand on his back as he joins him on the balcony and slips his hand into Victor’s. His hair is short now, Victor realises as he looks at him, framing his face perfectly, giving him the look of the very people that know that they belong to the elite.

It suits him so incredibly well.

“You are beautiful,” Victor says and kisses him tenderly, their lips meeting only for a brief moment before Yuuri himself pulls away again.

“I told Cao Bin to burn the rest of my hair,” he says. “For I never want to see it again.”

Victor nods. “To your new life, then.”

Yuuri sighs and moves to seek comfort in Victor’s arms, and Victor embraces him, his arms loosely wrapped around Yuuri’s belly.

“I have been thinking,” Victor says after a while, nuzzling Yuuri’s hair. “Chris has invited me and a few others to a casual dinner at his estate. I would like to take you with me.”

Yuuri shifts in his arms and looks up, the anxiety clear in his eyes.

“I know you are worried about what people might think,” Victor says, “but Chris has assured me that he is only inviting a couple of friends, of whom no one will say a word. Remember, it is perfectly acceptable to bring one’s concubine or mistress to such occasions.”

Yuuri bites his lower lip. “I know,” he murmurs, “but I fear I might be utterly useless there, Victor. I am not learned like you and them, I am not even a citizen of Petersburg.”

“You forget that Chris has a concubine, too, whom he loves very much and who would like to meet you.” Victor kisses his forehead. “You could make a friend. And I do think you need one.”

Yuuri frowns, adorably so, but Victor knows this is not the right moment to gush over how lovely it looks on his beloved. “I have you, Victor.”

“Some else, someone that is not me, someone who… who is in a similar situation as you.” Victor thinks back to what Chris has told him about his concubine. Of course, Victor has forgotten the name of the fortunate thing that is the subject of dear Chris’ affections, but he knows that Chris would have never suggested bringing Yuuri along if he were not sure that they would get along exceptionally well.

“Alright,” Yuuri sighs. “I shall come with you and… try to make a friend.”

Victor smiles and cups his cheeks. “You shall not regret it.”

* * *

In the end, Victor cannot stop Yuuri from fidgeting beside him in the carriage as they drive to Chris’ mansion a couple of days later. Not that Yuuri would have a reason to be nervous in Victor’s eyes, for he is the epitome of beauty tonight. Dressed in a dark green robe, with golden earrings and various bracelets ornamenting him like the goddess that he is. Victor cannot stop looking at him, not even now, not after he has come into Yuuri’s room to see him dressed like this and had to have him right there, right now, on the dressing table.

It is good that the gown is long, Victor thinks, for people would otherwise see the marks his hands have left on Yuuri’s thighs where he has grabbed him, and held him, to satisfy their desire.

“How many people will come tonight?” Yuuri asks for the sixth or seventh time, but Victor knows better than to tell him that.

“Just three others besides us,” Victor says patiently and takes his hand to stop him from fidgeting. “Two members of the scribe office and a member of the senate. I know all of them and they are respectable men. No one will bat an eye. They will only admire your beauty.”

Yuuri nods absentmindedly, running a hand through his short hair that suits him so incredibly well. “Very well… but what if I make a fool of myself?”

“You won’t,” Victor assures him and brings Yuuri’s hand to his lips. “If you are not sure, then say or do nothing. I will always be with you.”

Yuuri sighs, meeting his gaze apologetically. “I am being silly, am I not?”

“No, darling,” Victor says and kisses his knuckles. “Can you imagine how I felt when I was to speak before the senate for the very first time? My knees were about to give in, my voice threatened to fail me, and my hands! They trembled so much that my dear father took me aside and forced a cup of wine down my throat to calm me down.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I was positively tipsy when I first spoke before the senate, and I made it.” Victor gives Yuuri’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “And you will make it, too. Just stay at my side and be yourself.”

“I shall try,” Yuuri says weakly.

They do not let go of each other’s hands until the very last moment, not until it is time to get out of the carriage. Victor gets out first, holding out his arm for Yuuri to take as they enter the gate and walk up the path behind one of Chris’ servants to the house. It is like many others in this part of the city, large with vast, enclosed gardens, marble floors and alabaster pillars, beautifully painted walls and artwork everywhere. At the same time, Chris’ home is slightly different, perhaps more extravagant, and with a touch of his homeland.

Victor vividly remembers the wild parties Chris has thrown here, before he became a senator and more mature, but that does not mean that Chris no longer entertains.

But since he took a concubine, things have become a little different.

The man of the house greets them in the entrance hall, smiling warmly as he pulls Victor into a brief hug. “I am so glad you could come,” he says. “The others have already arrived, as you can hear. They are quite enjoying my wine.”

“Then I am eager for a cup, too,” Victor says, watching as Chris takes Yuuri’s hand and kisses the back of it.

“And Yuuri, the reason for my dear friend’s happiness. I am very happy that we meet again, and this time under such pleasant circumstances. May I say that you look most divine?”

“Thank you,” Yuuri says quietly and withdraws his hand again as soon as it seems appropriate, moving a little closer to Victor. He knows that Chris means to harm, of course, but sometimes, the man can be a bit much.

That much he knows from Victor’s stories.

“But dear Chris,” Victor says and leans forward, as if to let him in on a secret, “I am sure your dear concubine must look most divine tonight as well.”

“He does!” Chris says proudly and turns his head. “Ah, there he comes. Phichit, dear? Don’t you want to greet our guests?”

Yuuri holds his breath as a young man, an omega just like him, approaches them from the end of the hallway, dressed in a red and golden robe, the face hidden behind a sheer veil that only leaves his eyes visible. His hair, of which Yuuri can only see a bit, is of a deep black, very much like his own.

“Good evening,” he says softly as he comes to stand before them and clasps his hands, and Yuuri takes in the dark colour of his skin. A foreigner, too, just like him.

“May I introduce?” Chris puts his hand on the small of his concubine’s back. “This is my darling Phichit. Phichit, these are Senator Victor Nikiforov, and his dear Yuuri.”

“It is so nice to meet you,” Phichit says, his speech slightly accentuated but clear. “Chris was hoping that you would be able to come.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Victor says and inclines his head to the concubine, not touching him like Chris has done with Yuuri. Perhaps the veil he wears means something religious to him, Yuuri thinks as he meets Phichit’s gaze, whose eyes sparkle in utter delight.

“Shall we?” Chris asks, gesturing at the banquet room where the other guests are already entertaining themselves. “The cook has outdone herself tonight, I can assure you.”

It is like this that Yuuri finds himself sitting at Victor’s side a while later, nibbling on some meat and listening to the conversation of some of the most important men of the realm. Some of it is familiar to him, issues that Victor has told him about or discussed with him, whilst with others he is entirely unfamiliar. But none of it matters, he realises, as Victor has spoken the truth and no one here treats him in a strange way due to his peculiar social standing. He has been greeted by all of them, of course, and has even exchanged a few words with them. But other than that, they do not force him to talk, and Yuuri manages to relax.

Opposite to him sits Phichit, right beside Chris, keeping as quiet in the conversation as Yuuri. Even now, he is wearing the veil, only ever lifting it barely to push a piece of food into his mouth. Chris’ hand rests on the omega’s thigh, almost reassuringly, just like Victor’s hand rests on Yuuri’s waist. Every now and then, Phichit turns his head and looks at Yuuri, their eyes meetingt, particularly when controversial opinions are exchanged, and it is as if he were saying ‘Can you believe that?’

Yuuri cannot help but quietly chuckle to himself.

It is a rather peculiar situation, Yuuri thinks, that he is finding himself in. Never would he have thought to dine with men like these, to sit amongst them almost like an equal, to be wanted there, to listen to discussions about politics, art, and society. Even if Yuuri knows very little of these subjects, he listens attentively, taking in the points that Victor is making. He has already known that his beloved is an intelligent man, but it is an entirely different thing to listen to Victor in the company of men that are just as learned as him.

Then, as more wine flows, and tongues become loose, Phichit nods at the door, and Yuuri understands.

He looks at Victor, who is laughing about something one of the other guests has said, and quickly squeezes his hand.

“Do you mind if I…?” He whispers, glancing at Phichit, who is waiting for him at the door.

“Of course not,” Victor says and lets go of him, and Yuuri rises, following Phichit out of the banquet room and into the quiet hall. Not a soul is there, and Yuuri wonders where Phichit is taking him as he keeps walking, following him through the house. 

Only as they turn around the corner, the other omega suddenly stops, pulls the veil off his face, and turns around to Yuuri uncovered for the first time.

“Oh my!!” Phichit almost squeals and grabs Yuuri’s hands. “When Chris told me that Victor was bringing his concubine, I could not believe it! I swear, I hardly slept all week, for I was dying to meet you!”

“Y-You were?” Yuuri asks in confusion at the other omega’s excitement.

“Of course I was!” Phichit exclaims and almost jumps up and down on the spot, like Vicchan when Yuuri gives him a treat. “I have never met another concubine that used to be a slave before, just like me! Goodness, the air was terrible in there, was it not? Come, I know just the perfect spot!”

“You…” Yuuri does not know what to say, but Phichit does not seem to mind, for he grabs Yuuri’s hand and pulls him down the hallway and outside, onto a balcony that overlooks the most stunning flower garden that Yuuri has ever seen. Flowers and plants that are most definitely foreign to these lands seem to grow everywhere, creating a masterpiece that no painter could ever portray. The air is filled with the sweet, heavy scents of the flowers, almost like perfume that touches everything within reach.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Phichit asks and lets go of his hand, placing his hands on the bannister as he takes a deep breath, inhaling the cool air of the night.

Now that his face is uncovered, Yuuri can see the other omega in the light of the lanterns that have been lit on the balcony. He is a beautiful young man, his short, black hair falling over his eyes, his dark skin a stark contrast to his red and golden robe. Yes, Phichit is extraordinarily beautiful, even for an omega, and Yuuri can imagine that when he had still been a slave, he must have cost a small fortune for his beauty alone. But behind the beauty, there is wit, and also a kind heart – things that had surely made the foreign senator fall in love with him.

“This is my favourite place,” Phichit says and turns his head to look at Yuuri, his large, golden earrings jingling melodiously. “I often come here at night when my head feels too full and I need some fresh air. Then I sit here, close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths. And just like that, the world feels different again. I suspect there is some magic about this place, but one should not question the gods.”

Yuuri nods understandingly. “Victor does have a flower garden, too. But it is not as sumptuous as this one. I have never seen such flowers.”

“Chris had them imported,” Phichit explains. “Flowers from our respective homelands. Do you see this red one? Where I was born, you can find them at every corner.”

“Are you from the east, too?” Yuuri asks.

“I am,” Phichit confirms. “So are you. But you are from the islands? Island people all have your skin tone.”

“Yes,” Yuuri says. “But I do not remember very much.”

“Me neither,” Phichit says and sits down on a marble bench, clasping his hands on his lap. “Goodness, who would have thought we would end up like this?”

Yuuri chuckles and sits down beside him. “I often ask myself if this is just a dream, and that I will wake up and be the enslaved dancer again.”

“Oh!” Phichit’s eyes begin to shine. “You were a dancer, yes! Chris told me so. He said that you enchanted dear Victor with just your smile and your art.”

Yuuri blushes. “I’m not sure if that is true,” he murmurs and shifts on his seat.

“But he must love you very much,” Phichit insists. “Whether he fell in love with you right away or not. The way he looks at you now says it all. It is all that matters.”

“Just like Christophe looks at you, then,” Yuuri laughs, and Phichit blushes just like him. “Were you a servant in his house?”

Phichit hesitates, and for a moment, Yuuri fears that he has asked for too much, that he might have brought back painful memories for the omega. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he adds quickly.

“Oh, it’s alright!” Phichit assures him. “I was just not sure how to begin. I was a servant in this house, yes, but… it is a little more complicated than that. I do not want people to think wrongly of Christophe. People talk enough about him already merely because he is a foreigner.”

“I would never speak ill of someone that Victor holds most dear,” Yuuri says. “I promise I won’t think anything until you have told me your story.”

Phichit sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, nervously wrapping his shawl around his shoulders. “The truth is that Christophe bought me at the slave market,” he says calmly, and looks at Yuuri almost apologetically. “All of his servants come from there. I know what you must think of him now. Why would a man like him fight against slavery at the senate, yet buy slaves for himself? The truth is that Christophe buys those that would otherwise end in the most terrible situations. Young omegas, for example. People like you and I. All of his servants used to be in such a situation, and he freed them immediately after the obligatory waiting time of one month. Most of them have stayed to work for him as free citizens.”

That was something Yuuri had not known, not even Victor had told him about it. But it impresses him deeply that Christophe uses his money to buy and free slaves, and that he offers them a new life – and that Phichit happened to be one of them.

“My old master had no more use for me, so he sold me to a slave trader. I was sure that I would be sold to a brothel, because I was young and untouched, but Christophe came first. One of his servants collected me from the market and assured me that I was safe now, that I would be fine. They bathed me, gave me new clothes, and food to eat. Then they took me to Christophe.”

Phichit suddenly begins to chuckle, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “When I think of it now, I realise how terribly nervous he must have been. He said that he would free me, like everyone else. But he also told me, quite frankly, that he hoped that I would become his concubine, for he said I was very much to his liking. I remember being so stunned that I was unable to speak. He assured me that this was my choice alone, and that he would free me regardless after the mandatory waiting period was over, but that he wanted me to know that he felt strongly for me, for a reason he himself did not quite understand.

I hardly slept the following nights. I had learnt to not trust anyone, and I feared he would come into my bed and… take advantage of me, but he never did so. Instead, he only ever called for me in the afternoons or evenings to speak to me. About every possible thing under the sun. I realised that he truly wished me no harm. But I could not understand why he liked me. At the same time, I began to like _him_.”

Phichit looks at Yuuri, and they both chuckle, for oh, they both know this feeling so very well. They can both pinpoint the moment they have fallen for their men, and how their hearts had ached at the realisation.

“It was only a month or so after I was freed that I followed Christophe to his bed, and I have not looked back ever since.” Phichit sounds so sure, so confident in his decision, that Yuuri could never think of their story as anything but destiny. Even if it might have started under the most peculiar circumstances – his own story with Victor is not much different. “I knew that I loved him, and even if he was not sure how to name the feelings he had for me, I did not mind. I wanted to be with him, at his side.”

Yuuri cannot help but smile at the declaration. “You seem so happy,” he says and takes Phichit’s hand. “And Christophe, too. He looks at you in complete adoration.”

Phichit squeaks and half-hides his face behind his shawl. “He does not shy away from anything, not even in public. You must know, I wear this veil partly to keep him at bay. But also because where I am from, unmarried omegas cover their faces in the presence of unmarried men, like one of the scribes. But Christophe has assured me that we are to be married soon, as soon as the mourning period is over.”

Yuuri frowned. “Mourning period?”

“Oh, you cannot know that, of course,” Phichit says softly and glances over his shoulder, as if to check if they are still alone. “Christophe had to enter a marriage with a daughter of his father’s closest friend when he was younger. She did not follow him to Petersburg due to her delicate health. About nine months ago, he received the news that she had died in childbirth.”

Yuuri stares at him. “But if she did not follow him—”

“The child was not his,” Phichit explains. “Where Christophe is from, it is acceptable for both to take a lover. He hardly knew his wife, but her sudden death came as a shock to him. I often find him sitting in the garden, near the flowers she was named after. I believe he blames himself for not having been around more. Even if he did not love her.”

Yuuri looks down at his lap, thinking of Victor’s wife, and how little time Victor spends with her. What if something were to happen to Evgenia – what would it do to Victor, and to their love?

“That must be very difficult for you,” he says quietly to Phichit.

The other omega sighs ever so softly. “I comfort him when he needs me. Of course, it is difficult, but he has only ever reassured me of his love, and I trust him. And besides, is there not a greater proof of our love than our child?”

Yuuri blinks in surprise. “You have a child?”

Phichit’s face lights up in an instant. “Oh, you must see our little boy!” He squeals and grabs Yuuri by the hand, pulling him up with him and back inside. “He is sleeping right down the hallway!”

Yuuri cannot see a thing as Phichit guides him through the dark and back into the corridor, only there being enough torches to light their way. But his heart is beating fast in his chest, partly due to Phichit’s excitement, but also because he has only ever seen small children from afar, has never been allowed near them as a dancer, as a slave.

But Phichit pulls him along as if he were his closest friend, and into a dark room that is illuminated only by a few candles.

“We must be quiet now,” he whispers as he guides Yuuri through the room towards a cradle, in which sleeps the most beautiful baby boy that Yuuri has ever seen.

“Oh my,” Yuuri breathes and presses his hands to his mouth in awe as they move closer to the cradle. The child is unmistakably Chris’ and Phichit’s son, with hair as dark as the night and skin that has been kissed by the sun. Like all small children, he is a chubby angel, sleeping on his back like a starfish.

He is the most beautiful child Yuuri has ever seen, and he longs to hold and kiss him.

“He is nine months old now,” Phichit whispers to him and reaches into the cradle to gently stroke his son’s cheek with a finger. “I conceived him rather quickly. The midwife suspected even that I was blessed with him the first time my beloved had me. Perhaps that is true. But he is most definitely a child of love.”

Yuuri tries not to cry, upset and surprised at how much this moves him.

“What is his name?” He asks quietly.

“Chati,” Phichit whispers. “A name of my homeland. It means ‘life’.”

“That is a beautiful name,” Yuuri says, watching in awe as Chati kicks his little feet in his sleep.

“Christophe let me choose it. I wanted something that would also be a blessing. I hope his name will grant him a long and happy life.”

“I’m sure it will,” Yuuri whispers and reaches for Phichit’s hand, who takes it without question.

It is not easy, Yuuri knows, to find a friend in a world like this – let alone in a life that is as peculiar as theirs. But he feels that it was good to come with Victor tonight, to meet Phichit. He does not know why, but he is sure that Phichit is going to be a dear friend to him.

For if someone finds someone that understands, one must never let them go again.

Suddenly, Chati sneezes in his sleep, his eyes open – and promptly, he begins to cry in the terribly heartbreaking way that only babies have mastered.

“Oh, no!” Phichit cries and lifts the baby boy out of the cradle and into his arms. “Did you get scared by your own sneeze, hm?” He kisses his son gently, bouncing him in his arms to soothe him. But just like most children that suddenly wake at night and are confused and scared, the little boy is inconsolable, crying his eyes out.

“Shhh…” Phichit holds his son closer to his chest and moves to sit down with him on a sofa. There, he begins to sing to him in the language of his homeland, a beautiful song that Yuuri wishes he were able to understand. The moment Phichit begins to sing, Chati stops crying, his big, brown eyes looking up at Phichit in awe and utter fascination. It must be a lullaby, Yuuri assumes as he sits down beside Phichit and watches the little boy curl up against Phichit’s chest, his eyes slowly falling shut as he drifts off to sleep again, to dream of the blissful things that only infants are ever blessed with.

“There we go,” Phichit whispers and kisses Chati’s hair. Yuuri watches as Phichit puts the baby back into his cradle, but not without kissing him again and again.

“He usually sleeps through the night,” Phichit whispers. “He only ever cries when he is scared. Usually, he sleeps in my bedroom, but I thought it would be best if he slept in a quieter part of the house tonight.”

“I understand,” Yuuri whispers. “He is a beautiful child, Phichit.”

Phichit’s chest swells with pride. “He is his father’s pride and joy,” he whispers. “Speaking of. I believe we should go back before our dear men declare us missing.”

The omegas chuckle and after a last look at little Chati, who has entered the land of dreams again, they leave the nursery and walk back through the estate to the banquet room. Just before they are about to go in, Phichit readjusts his veil to hide his face, his eyes shining and speaking more than a thousand words ever could. “Let us be the best of friends, Yuuri,” he says and reaches for Yuuri’s hand once more. “You and I.”

Yuuri squeezes his hand. “I would love nothing more.”

Phichit beams at him, then pushes the curtain aside and leads him back into the banquet room where a musician has settled in the middle and plays the harp.

“Ah, darling!” Chris exclaims as they enter and reaches out for Phichit. “You simply must tell my dear friend here about the customs of your homeland.”

“With pleasure,” Phichit says and moves to sit down at the side of the scribe who promptly begins a conversation with him, a conversation that Phichit takes control of with such ease that Yuuri cannot help but admire him. Phichit’s confidence is extraordinary.

Yuuri looks around, finding Victor standing by the window with another senator, both of them deep in a conversation that sounds terribly important.

“Did you see our son?” Chris asks Yuuri, and the pride is unmistakably there in his voice. “He is a fine boy, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Yuuri agrees with a genuine, warm smile. “Such a beautiful child, with a fitting name.”

“I was a bit sceptical at first, I have to admit,” Chris says, “but after a moment, I loved the name. It is perfect for him, and it honours my darling’s homeland. Even if he cannot remember much of it due to the life he had led.”

“Phichit told me how he came to be your concubine,” Yuuri says, watching Chris carefully, not entirely sure if he is meant to speak about it. But Chris only nods, his expression open and attentive as ever. “You have a very kind heart. To buy slaves, only to free them.”

Chris smiles a little. “I do what I can,” he says and takes a cup of wine from a servant, thanking the man quietly – an unusual gesture in itself for people of his station – before looking at Yuuri again. “But I must admit I am not as selfless as you might think.”

“What do you mean?”

Chris sighs softly and looks over his shoulder at Phichit who has moved on to the window and is in a conversation with Victor now, laughing at something Yuuri’s beloved has said.

“It is true that I buy slaves to free them,” Chris says. “But when I saw Phichit at the slave market, I knew that I would not be able to live a single day in peace if I could not have him.”

Yuuri blinks. “You mean…”

“I bought him solely for selfish reasons, yes,” Chris says and turns his head back to Yuuri. “I said to myself that I would be honest with him from the very beginning, and I was. And the most amazing thing was that Phichit did not run away from me. He let me become his friend, and eventually, his lover.”

Yuuri looks back at Phichit, remembers the look on his face he has had just moments ago when telling Yuuri his story, and how he had come to fall in love with the man that was, by law, to be his master. Phichit suddenly turns his head, his gaze first falling on Yuuri, then on Chris, and his brown eyes begin to sparkle in delight. Just as Yuuri looks back at Chris, he can see that Chris’ eyes are shining, too, and more does he not need to know.

“Perhaps it is not my place to say so,” Yuuri begins, “but even amongst slaves is the knowledge that some might become extraordinarily lucky and find the person that is destined to own their heart. I believe that Phichit might own yours, and you his.”

Chris smiles at him over his cup of wine. “Just like you own Victor’s. I have never seen my friend more besotted.”

Yuuri blushes and clasps his hands. “I hope that I am making him happy.”

“You are,” Chris says without hesitation. “And you are happy, too. I can see it when you look at him or hold his hand. You are good for him, and he is good for you. That is rare enough for most of us. God knows what we were to do if something happened to the people we love.”

Chris is saying things that are very much true – it is rare for people to fall in love the way they did, and even rarer for a slave to fall in love with someone of the class of masters. But with Victor, everything has always felt so natural, as if it were meant to be this way. Yuuri has never once questioned it, knowing that happiness is too fragile for a mere mortal like him, and that he must never doubt it.

He looks back at Phichit and Victor, taking in his lover’s face in the light of the candles, his unearthly beauty, and the kindness that surrounds him.

What were to become of him if he were to ever lose him?

Victor turns his head, meets Yuuri’s gaze, and he smiles.

Yuuri’s heart aches as he smiles back.

* * *

There is wine on Yuuri’s lips as Victor kisses him. Hungrily, passionately, demanding, his hands on Yuuri’s thighs as he pushes up his gown, higher and higher to pool around his waist. There is Victor’s breath, mingled with his own as he puts him down on the bed on silken sheets, never once breaking their kiss. There are heavy breaths and moans, a gentle cry coming over Yuuri’s lips as Victor enters him, a hand on his thigh, caressing him, the other on the small of his back, holding him close. As if Yuuri would have ever let go of him, of his lover, of the other half of his soul.

And yet, Yuuri thinks as he lies beneath Victor and feels him thrust into him, there is pain in his heart that he has refused to acknowledge, and that now threatens to come to the surface. Pain that is not of the physical kind but that torments him nonetheless. Pain that, if he let it, would take control of him and shake him with fear and never let go of him again. But pain is something that Yuuri has learnt long ago to suppress, to never let take control of him or of his actions. Shielding his emotions from it, however, is an entirely different thing, and it has become harder to do so.

Because there is a certain kind of fear, a fear he has refused to acknowledge and avoided to think about, and it threatens to eat him up from the inside. And yet, there is Victor’s touch, his hands, his kisses, all of him in this very moment that reminds him of a force much stronger than fear, the very force that has brought them together and that makes Yuuri swallow his fear for the sake of his beloved.

Victor falls asleep before him, his head on the pillow beside him, his silver hear spread around his head almost like a halo. Yuuri reaches out and touches his cheek ever so gently, tracing the line of his jawbone up to his ear. There, he pushes a strand of hair out of the way before he leans over and kisses his temple. His arm comes around Victor as he curls up at his side and closes his eyes, his heart overflowing.

He loves Victor. He had known that love could hurt, but not like this. Not like the terrible feeling inside his heart that eats away everything within its reach, fuelled by the terrible fear of ever losing him, of losing what they have. Yuuri does not care for jewels, nor for palaces or gowns or riches, or for anything else that gold and silver could buy.

But what if he were to lose Victor?

The morning comes slowly, approaching with ever-lasting patience as the first rays of sunshine creep into the room and warm their backs.

Yuuri is still awake as it touches first Victor’s face, then his own, declaring that the night has come to an end. Only as the sun demands it does Yuuri rise, leaving Victor, moving to the balcony to wait for him there.

He wears nothing but a blanket wrapped around his naked body as he sits on the chaise and breathes in the cool air of the morning. There are birds in the garden, singing and chirping to greet the day. Vicchan sleeps on the other chair, his head resting on his small paws. His dreams are undisturbed, Yuuri thinks. Something to desire.

It takes longer than usual for Victor to wake, undoubtedly because of the wine he has had the night before, the alcohol still in his system and making him tired. But he wakes, eventually, and joins Yuuri on the balcony and on the chaise, naked as the day he was born. His arm comes around Yuuri as he kisses him good morning and runs a hand through his hair.

“For how long have you been up?” He asks.

Yuuri smiles lightly. “Not too long,” he lies.

Victor yawns, barely managing to hide it behind his hand. “Goodness. What a night. I was not too rough with you, was I.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, love.”

“Good.” Victor kisses him again and gets up, walking back inside. Yuuri watches him, watches him stretch and pick up a robe from the floor to put on. “It was a good evening, was it not? Phichit barely stopped praising you. He said you were most besotted with their little boy. A fine child.”

Yuuri turns around on the chaise. “Victor?”

Victor turns his head. “Yes, my love?”

Yuuri stares at him, something in his chest keeping his heart in its firm grasp, threatening to let go any second. And what will come of it, what will spring free when he loses control he cannot tell, but it will for sure be grand, and overwhelming, and bring unbearable pain. Pain that controls him even now, as Yuuri grips the edge of the chaise.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

“What if I ever were to lose you?”

His voice is quiet, and Victor barely hears him, but their hearts shatter at the very same time.

* * *

Yuuri does not know how much is in the purse, but it sits heavy in his hand as Victor places it there. Before them sits a scribe, a young man in the service of the state, watching attentively and discretely at the same time as the most famous senator of Petersburg kisses the hands of his concubine.

“There is not much that I can do for you besides this,” Victor says, and his eyes are full of love as he speaks, “but this I can give.”

He touches the parchment on the table and pushes it towards Yuuri.

A long talk, a long, terrible conversation has preceded all of this. It has featured Yuuri crying and upset, and Victor, scared and confused, both of them trying to make sense of a reality, of a possibility they have ignored, and that has been demanding their attention for far too long. For what were to happen, indeed, if something happened to Victor, and Yuuri would be left alone?

What were to happen if Yuuri were alone, without Victor’s protection, in an unstable, peculiar position? A former slave, a senator’s concubine, not a wife, with no child acknowledged by him?

They had held each other for a long time after that, after pouring their hearts out to one another, and Victor had realised that it was upon him to act, to make sure Yuuri would never, ever be afraid of the future again.

“This document declares you a free citizen of Petersburg,” the scribe says. “A free citizen with the right to marry, to vote, to go to court, to take a lawyer, to—”

Victor ignores him and squeezes Yuuri’s hands, Yuuri, whose eyes have grown wide in shock, who stares at the parchment and then at the purse in his hands that contains more money than most people ever got to earn in their lives.

“This is all I can give to you, my love,” Victor says softly, “and it is hardly enough. But it gives you protection and financial security should ever something happen to me or should you decide to leave me.”

“Victor,” Yuuri breathes and swallows thickly. “I would never leave you.”

“I know,” Victor whispers and kisses his hands. “But that is part of freedom, too.”

Yuuri stares at him, his brown eyes shimmering in both fear and joy, but above all, there is love in them, so much love that the poor scribe before them clears his throat to remind them of his presence.

“All you need to do is to sign with your name, here,” he says, handing Yuuri a quill. “First name here, family name here.”

Yuuri takes the quill, but then hesitates. “I… I don’t have a family name,” he whispers and looks at the scribe, then at Victor. “I don’t—”

“You can make one up,” Victor suggested. “Or take mine—”

“I’m afraid you would have to adopt him, then,” the scribe interrupts him carefully.

Yuuri looks down at the parchment, the task overwhelming.

“Do you remember the name of your family?” The scribe asks. “Or of your home?”

Yuuri shakes his head, doubting that the village even had a name.

“There was a river,” he says, looking at Victor. “That is the only name I remember.”

Victor nods. “Then go ahead.”

Yuuri licks his lips and takes the parchment, carefully lowering the quill onto the paper.

The name _Yuuri_ _Katsuki_ dries on the parchment the moment it is written, the man to whom it belongs now a free citizen.

It does not feel real, Yuuri thinks even after the scribe has left, leaving with them a copy of the document that declares who he is – and truly, he wonders, does it even change much?

And yet, it is the gesture alone that matters, he thinks as he looks up at Victor, who holds him close and who has nuzzled his hair until now.

“Are you surprised?” Victor asks him, reaching out to push a strand of hair from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri admits, glancing at the document on the table, at the purse full of coins. “I do not know what I expected.”

“I believe it was the only right thing to do,” Victor says and he sighs, “even if it is a dreadfully dry gesture and… and does not even remotely reflect the feelings that I have for you.”

“Victor…”

“But I want you to know,” Victor continues softly, cupping his cheek, “that even without these means, I would have never, ever left you without protection, even if you happen to never have a child by me that secures your status. For I love you so, my Yuuri. And you will always have my heart.”

Yuuri nods, turning his head ever to slightly to kiss the palm of the hand that touches his face. “I know. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

Victor smiles. “I thank you,” he says, “for loving me.”

For a while they stand like this, holding each other and basking in each other’s touch. Outside, the birds sing the song of the approaching evening, of approaching rain.

Yuuri chuckles, causing Victor to frown.

“What is it?”

Yuuri shakes his head, a smile on his lips. “I cannot… I cannot believe that… that so many things happen at once. That you do all of this for me, even now, even… even when it is not necessary, when the gods have decided to bless me regardless. Goodness…” Yuuri chuckles, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head in disbelief.

Victor frowns. “I do not understand, my love,” he says in confusion. “Why would this not have been necessary?”

Yuuri drops his hand onto Victor’s arm and looks up at him, his other hand finding Victor’s lacing their fingers together. To think that some things fall into place, so very naturally.

“Because I am with child.”

**Author's Note:**

> *mic drop*


End file.
